She was a publisher's agent in King of Prussia, a very affluent section of Pennsylvania, just outside western Philadelphia. Well educated and successful, she dressed and looked the part, and had a refined way about her as she naturally made you feel you were a very special person, certainly the most important person in the room.
Our date was a "business lunch" at an upper class deli in Boston's Back Bay. Her choice was impeccable; a cup of kosher chicken noodle soup and a half corned beef sandwich on a thick, light rye with just a hint of Dijon mustard and a side of kettle roasted Cape Cod chips. To drink, an unpretentious bottle of Dr. Brown's Crme Soda, a perfect blend of tastes which clearly illustrated her continental flair for fine dining.
And then, the surprise of all surprises! Everything was great until she ate. She drank the Crme Soda from the bottle, stuffed a half bag of potato chips in her mouth as if she was afraid I was going to take them, drank the cup of soup with both hands, sucking each noodle into her mouth, and then she grabbed the overstuffed half corned beef sandwich with both hands and proceeded to wrestle it to the floor, all the time stuffing the entire two pound sandwich into her mouth, thick light rye and all. Before I found my napkin, she was done.
For a moment, I really thought she could save this meal with her choice of desert. I could even excuse the fact that she ordered her desert before I even started my lunch, by her selection; a slice of New York Style cheesecake, plain, with a cup of steaming hot gourmet coffee. When the cheesecake came, I couldn't help but notice a giant ball of chocolate chip ice cream with butterscotch sauce pouring over the sides of the plate like Lake Pontchartrain.
When I finally began to eat my lunch, she began to lick her fingers after rubbing them in her near empty plate. "Good to the very last drop", she smiled and began picking out what I could only presume were chocolate things in her teeth. Then I noticed she had butterscotch sauce on her shoes which preceded remnants of a potato knish she decided to have AFTER the cheesecake.
Then I began to wonder why, with all her conditioning and careful training, someone would have missed something so very important. You'd think other kids would fall over backwards laughing at this coniferous, half crazed spectacle in her Bonwit Teller play clothes. Or her etiquette class at Radcliff where she would have "drunk" her Soup D'Jour with both hands, and probably not even hers.
Then she abruptly excused herself and ran off to the ladies room for God knows what. I had the horrible thought of wondering why she never gained weight. After I waited to make sure she was OK, I asked for the check, paid the waitress and left.
I felt strangely guilty about our lunch and I had to admit I simply couldn't allow her to represent our company, ragardless of her resume and references. Luncheons with clients or potential clients were such a large part of our business.
Driving away as fast as I could, full of so many mixed emotions; surprise, sorrow, and total bewilderment topping the list, I found one more emotion which surpassed all the others. Humor. I laughed histerically and cried out loud all the way back to the office. Everyone in traffic was watching me, all alone in my car, and they began to move over to give me plenty of room. And then I thought of how it could have been worse, and I became very thankful we didn't eat somewhere else, like Joao's Chili Drive-Thru.